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  The other BattleMech, the one standing behind the distant Federated Suns throne, no longer sported the black and gold color scheme of the First Kathil Uhlans. The bird-legged Marauder had been painted the light powder blue long known as Steiner blue. Before the integration of the Lyran Commonwealth with the Federated Suns, Steiner blue had been the color of Lyran military dress uniforms. Katrina had no doubt that the choice of paint color would also be well remarked upon back on Atreus.

  The ambassadors stopped at the foot of the dias, and each one bowed to Katrina. She returned the bow with her head while remaining seated, then opened her mouth as if to speak. As the ambassadors leaned forward to hear, Katrina closed her mouth, looked away for a second and made a show of being unable to talk as she struggled with tearful emotions.

  Confident she had their full attention, she looked back at them. "Forgive me. There has been much turmoil and death of late."

  Clark Tsu-Chan, the stocky, balding ambassador from the Capellan Confederation, nodded slowly. The smaller, flaxen-haired representative from Atreus, Luise Waskiewicz, tugged at the black armband on her left arm. "Highness, we of the Free Worlds League now understand even more deeply the tragic loss of your mother. Perhaps we must recall what Jerome Blake noted so long ago: 'Death shall have no dominion, and love shall not be lost'."

  "Your words bring me comfort, Ambassador Waskiewicz." Even if they are a butchered plagiarism of Dylan Thomas' poem, And death shall have no dominion. I wonder how many other pearls of wisdom from antiquity have been attributed to poor Jerome Blake in the effort to deify him? Katrina glanced down to make it difficult for the other two to read her true emotions. No matter how good her control, one could never be too careful.

  Looking up again, she let a single tear roll down her cheek. "My mother's loss has deeply affected me, as have the deaths of my friend, Galen Cox, and my cousin, Ryan Steiner. Much responsibility has been thrust upon me. Were it not for the need to care for my people, I fear I would have been paralyzed by grief."

  The Capellan representative kept his voice low. "Mourning is healing and, as such, is a process that requires time."

  "And a process that does not need other concerns pressing in upon it." Katrina brought her head up, then set her shoulders. "But, now, to the matter at hand. Perhaps you wonder why I have requested a joint meeting with you. To forestall any misunderstanding, let me say now that I thought it would eliminate any suspicions about my motives or what had been said."

  "You are most considerate. Highness."

  "As was your Captain-General, Ambassador, in the condolences he sent me upon the death of my mother and again on Galen's death. You are fortunate to have a leader who is compassionate and wise."

  "You are too kind, Highness."

  It would be good for you to continue thinking that. Katrina permitted herself a faint smile. "As your intelligence agencies have doubdess begun to report, the news from New Avalon last month contained a bit of confusion concerning a sighting of Joshua Marik outside the NAIS hospital where he is undergoing treatment for his leukemia. It turned out to be nothing but a case of mistaken identity—a young woman was mistaken for Joshua. Here and now, I give you my solemn word that Joshua is safe and continuing his treatments at the NAIS, and I refute any dire or baseless rumors that might intrude upon the Captain-General during his time of grief."

  Waskiewicz's face had paled a bit as Katrina spoke, but her color returned by the end of the little speech. "I will convey this message to Atreus."

  "I would have you do more.", Katrina stood slowly, then stepped over to pluck the twin envelopes from the Federated Commonwealth throne. "These envelopes contain holovid disks of the original programs concerning the incident, as well as many of the raw images that were used to put them together. My brother is sending you only finished programs, which means you would have to exert great efforts and resources to obtain the preproduction materials I am giving you. Though I realize this may cause a bit of a recession for those of my subjects who pass information to you, I trust you will employ them in verifying that what I have given you is genuine."

  Tsu-chan blinked his eyes as he accepted one of the envelopes. "I do not think I have ever heard bribery and treason described so circumspectly."

  "Nor will you again, Ambassador, for our nations have secrets that we dearly wish to keep one from another. However, Joshua is not and should not be made a point of contention between our nations. He is but a child and far too important to be a pawn in the games nations play." Katrina stood beside her throne with one hand resting on the high back.

  "Joshua is on New Avalon for treatment of his cancer, but I have always hated the impression that he is a hostage."

  The Free Worlds League ambassador shook her head. "My people have never held any illusions about Joshua's status in the Federated Commonwealth."

  That could be taken two ways, in fine diplomatic style. Katrina let a hint of a smile twist her lips. "Then your people are far more generous than are mine, or, at least, more generous than some members of my family."

  That comment struck home with both ambassadors, and neither fully hid a shocked reaction.

  Good, then my task here is done. "Please, Excellencies, return to your embassies and dispatch this material without delay. If we can uproot suspicions before they grow, we need not fear any distrust growing in their wake."

  Charleston, Woodstock

  Sarna March, Federated Commonwealth

  Larry Acuff held his hands up toward Phoebe Derden. "There's no way I can win this discussion, is there?"

  Clasping her hands behind her head, the blond commander of the Woodstock Militia leaned back and laughed. "You can deny being miffed at all this news about Joshua bumping your presence here on Woodstock from the local newsvids all you want, but I'm not going to believe it."

  Larry's brown eyes narrowed. "And why not?"

  Phoebe shook her head. "You're a vid-hound, Larry. Last week, when you, George, and I went over to the Neon Club, you used your celebrity to get us in."

  "I think you were the one who said she didn't want to wait in line."

  "Guilty, but I wasn't the one who spoke to the doorman and got us waved in ahead of everyone else." Phoebe sat forward, a wolfish grin on her face. "That wasn't what keyed me, though. The fact was that when we came into the room, you paused in the doorway so everyone could see you make a grand entrance."

  "I was just letting my eyes adjust to the dark."

  "Sure, and it wasn't dark outside or in the corridor leading to the bar?"

  Larry hung his head. "All right, you win. I wasn't letting my eyes adjust to the light." As Phoebe's laughter began to echo through her office, Larry brought a hand up and pointed at her. "But it wasn't to make an entrance either. It was different."

  "How so?"

  "I'm not sure you'd understand."

  Phoebe frowned at him. "I may not have my face and my 'Mech plastered all over T-shirts distributed throughout the Federated Commonwealth, but I didn't get these Commandant's bars by being dense. Try me."

  Larry leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, knowing how boastful all this was going to sound. "I was trying to figure out if I was going to be ambushed or not. On Solaris there are places where MechWarriors—professional fighters like me—can go and not be in the public eye."

  Phoebe arched an eyebrow at him. "Is this going to be some sort of 'it's tough to be a celebrity' speech?"

  "That may sound funny to you, Phoebe, but it isn't easy. Sure, it's fun, and brings a lot of advantages—like being able to get yourself and friends into a club without a wait of an hour or two. But you also get a lot of trouble."

  "Like the twins who wanted to have a tug of war with your earlobes that night?"

  Larry blushed. "No, like guys deciding you don't look so tough and wanting to take a poke at you. And worse." He frowned. "When you're a public figure, everyone who's ever put a bet down on you or bought a ticket for one of your fights or has bought a product you en
dorse thinks he owns a piece of you. People complain about how much we make and how little we work. They don't think it's right that teachers and nurses make so little when their contribution to society is so great by comparison to ours."

  His head came up and he noted that the mirth in Phoebe's gray eyes was muted. "Do you know what the average career for a fighter is on Solaris?"

  She shook her head.

  "Three months! Not years, months! And it's not because warriors get killed in the 'Mech duels, it's because the training and the stress are nothing short of bonecrushing. It's worse than I ever experienced when fighting with the Tenth Lyran Guards."

  Phoebe glanced down at her blotter. "Worse than the camp on Alyina?"

  Larry shook his head, unable to speak for a second. "Alyina puts it all in perspective, which is why I've been able to go on so long. That and the fact that Kai shields his fighters from a lot of pressure. My fights are broadcast and are viewed by billions and billions of people. They see the profiles and little news stories about what I'm doing, and they think they know me. And they do, a little, but they really only know the face I'm showing the public."

  Larry laughed for a second. "At the Neon, a guy who had recognized me followed me on the way to the bathroom. Then he started talking to me as I was standing there. He wanted me to go back to his table with him, to 'ditch the losers' I was with and talk to him and his buddies. He said he had the Crucis-R hovercar franchise here in Charleston and would cut me a deal on one if I'd do a holovert for him."

  Phoebe's expression darkened. "Was his name Buddy Korren?"

  "Sounds right. Know him?"

  "He's on the Charleston Municipal Militia Liaison board. He wanted to make an ad showing some of our 'Mechs tearing apart hovercars made by his competitors. When I explained that we couldn't do that, he offered me a bribe. A real winner, that one."

  "Well, then, you know the sort of slime I run into. I mean, there are plenty of great people out there who want to shake my hand or ask for an autograph, and that's fine—especially when it's youngsters. But I have to admit that a little ice rolls through my guts when I hear a voice say, 'Hey, you, buddy, you're Larry Acuff, aren't you?' I immediately start to wonder what they want and then start looking for a way out of there.

  "And, in answer to what started all this, I don't mind being out of the public eye. Until this thing with Joshua broke, we had holovideographers camped out on my parents' front lawn. Now that it's dying down, I'm afraid they'll be back. Drives my mother crazy because they tromp all over her flower beds."

  Phoebe's smile brightened and Larry feared another comic jab at him. "Maybe I can help you with that."

  "How so?"

  She gestured to the computer console on her desk. "Bachelor Officers Quarters has a suite open. I can put you in there."

  "Thanks, but you can't do that with civilians without getting into trouble, right? You were always by the book, Phoebe. George can't have changed you that much."

  "He hasn't." She tapped the screen. "According to the books, Reserve Hauptmann Acuff, you've not reported for your duty assignments over the last three years. That means you've got six weeks of reserve duty coming. I can shift you over to the Militia here and put you on public relations duty. That'll square your commitment and give you a place to stay where the vid-leeches can't get at you."

  Larry hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Thanks. You've got a deal."

  "Good."

  "I appreciate how you're taking care of me here. Not just this, but introducing me to all your friends. I wasn't sure I was going to fit in back here, and there are still some rough spots, but you've helped make them smoother."

  "I owe you, Larry."

  He frowned. "You would have met my cousin anyway. In fact, I don't remember introducing you."

  "You didn't, and that's not why I owe you." Phoebe bit at her lower lip. "You got left behind on Alyina and I've always thought that was my fault."

  "Hey, Phoebe, no, don't go thinking that at all. My Warhammer had lost a leg and an arm. You and the others got called back to regroup and hold the landing zone so the DropShips could come in and get Prince Victor out. I knew what you were doing, and I was there with you in spirit. You'd have come back if you could have."

  "I would have, but you didn't deserve the camp and all that."

  "No one deserved the camp, but it didn't kill me."

  "So it made you stronger?"

  Larry thought for a second, then nodded. "Stronger and wiser. It made me realize that life's a lot more basic than most folks think it is, and that's been worth a great deal to me.

  "Makes it easier to tolerate guys like Buddy?"

  "No, nothing could do that." He smiled at Phoebe and was happy to see the smile return to her face. "What it did teach me is that nothing is more important than friends. Thanks for confirming the lesson."

  10

  Do not repeat the tactics that have gained you one victory, but let your methods be regulated by the infinite variety of circumstances.

  —Sun Tzu, The Art of War

  Marik Palace, Atreus

  Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

  1 July 3057

  From the disgust boiling up in his belly, Sun-Tzu Liao knew instantly he was locked inside a dream. He seldom remembered his dreams and even less frequently found himself walking through one. His disdain for dreams came almost entirely from how his mother and now his sister found such great and mystical relevance in the images parading through their brains while they slept. Neither woman had ever shown much grasp of reality, and their penchant for interpreting reality through dreams guaranteed that they would never truly function in the same universe as the rest of the Inner Sphere.

  Sun-Tzu knew, from reading and research, that dreams occurred during sleep to allow the brain to integrate recently learned facts into the sleeper's memory matrix. The few dreams he did recall seemed to provide sufficient evidence to believe that was all the brain was doing. With that as his foundation, Sun-Tzu looked at the symbolism of his dream and tried to decipher what was being integrated and where it would reside.

  He found himself in a long hallway—very long as it stretched off into infinity—fashioned from plates of hand-beaten gold. Though no light source was visible, highlights glinted from every surface. Creatures from mythology, scientific symbols, and other icons of life in the Inner Sphere had been carved into or out of the panels. Though fascinating, and annoyingly difficult to identify if he looked directly at them, he knew they were insignificant to his quest for information.

  Hanging along the left-hand walls was a series of portraits. Most were dark and old, with cracks forming in the paint as if there were ancient renderings by Terran masters from long before humanity had discovered the secrets of interstellar travel. He even recognized some of the styles: Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Whelan, Parkinson, and Matisse, yet he knew none of those artists had created the portraits. He knew this because all of the portraits were of individuals who had lived long after those masters had died.

  Sun-Tzu slowly started down the corridor and saw that his grandfather, Maximilian Liao, was the first subject. Sharp-eyed and sharper-faced, Maximilian looked vital and full of defiant fire. Certainly that was the man his mother had always described, but not the one Sun-Tzu remembered. Of course, he had been only a child when he knew his grandfather, and by then his grandfather had been broken by Hanse Davion and Justin Allard.

  Glancing to his right Sun-Tzu saw that a tall silver mirror had been added to Ihe previously bare wall across from the portrait. Looking up he noticed that all the portraits faced mirrors, further intensifying his desire to fathom the mystery. He did not see himself in the mirror, but instead saw a bent old man, his unkempt hair falling in greasy hanks onto the soiled shoulders of a threadbare robe. The old man's eyes burned with madness. Yes, Sun-Tzu thought, that was the Maximilian Liao he had known.

  He pushed on and next saw Van Gogh's portrait of Thomas Marik. Bold strokes and bright yell
ow paint traced every scar on Thomas' face. His eyes seemed dull, and exhaustion oozed from the gaunt face. Sun-Tzu thought it also an accurate image of Thomas since Sophina's suicide.

  Looking toward the mirror to see what transformation it would work on Thomas, he was surprised at the strong image reflected back. Here was Thomas clad in a silvery suit of armor, a shining sword raised high. A halo of stars surrounded his head, and the scars on his face had became faint. His expression showed the same one worn by the fanatical Word of Blake adherents whenever addressing Thomas at court. And that let Sun-Tzu see how most people in the Free Worlds League viewed Thomas: a reformer who had created the Knights of the Inner Sphere to restore noble ideals to modern life.

  Already a theory had begun to form in Sun-Tzu's mind concerning what he was experiencing, so he rushed forward to gather more data. In the next portrait he found himself rendered as a foppish harlequin, with his mouth hanging open in a lopsided, dimwitted grin. His body was twisted just enough for him to show a big yellow stripe running down his spine.

  Ah, me as I wish others to see me. On Outreach, when all the young royals had gathered together to train while their parents discussed strategies, Sun-Tzu had purposefully whined and squirmed, shirked duty and run when confronted. He knew well that every one of his peers thought his mother insane, so he played the spoiled, petty fop they expected of him.

  Spinning, he saw himself reflected and was surprised to note how much the mirror's image looked like his cousin, Kai Allard-Liao. This is a caution. He had noticed enough about his cousin to suspect that Kai played his cards close to his chest and did not expose his full potential. At least that was the conclusion he drew from the fact that his brain was presenting his own image close to where it kept Kai's image stored. Perhaps I am underestimating Kai.

  Sun-Tzu forced himself to travel yet further down the corridor. Hanse Davion's portrait confronted him next, sending a thrill down his spine. Hanse Davion, displayed in all his tall, robust, and ruddy glory, had well earned his nickname of 'the Fox.' First he had managed to trick Maximilian Liao into clutching to his bosom the asp named Justin Allard, then he'd launched the assault that gobbled up half the worlds in the Capellan Confederation, creating the Sarna March for the newly formed Federated Commonwealth.